


Deep Green Eyes

by fandomtrashiness



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Gang Rape, Getting Together, HYDRA Trash Party, Hurt Clint Barton, Hydra (Marvel), Ideal Federal Savings Bank, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Suppressing Machine | The Chair (Marvel), Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Pining, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Clint Barton, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Slow Burn, Thanos did happen but no one died because I said so, The Raft Prison (Marvel), winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomtrashiness/pseuds/fandomtrashiness
Summary: What if the airport in Civil War wasn't the first time Clint and Bucky had met? What if Clint had been captured by HYDRA during Winter Soldier and a recently broken out of brainwashing Bucky saved him? Eventual Winterhawk. Hydra trash party, so heed the tags!!!!Thanos did happen, but everyone's alive because I said so.Clint doesn't have a wife or kids, because I said so.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Deep Green Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> POV: Clint Barton

I’m awake now, and I still don’t quite know what happened.

I remember Sitwell texting me at lunch, telling me it was urgent to get to the Triskelion.

I remember being crushed that I didn’t even get to finish my pizza before suiting up and heading to work.

I sort of remember the chaos in whatever room we were in, a room which I can’t remember, and being told Cap is a filthy traitor who needs to be taken in at all costs.

Obviously I didn’t buy that, which I made very clear, and next thing I knew there was a stun baton jabbing me right in the kidneys.

And then I woke up, still very confused about what made Cap a traitor, why I had been attacked by SHIELD agents, all that jazz.

I can still feel the effects of the stun baton, that stinging pain reverberating through my skin.

It doesn’t help that I find myself naked and spread-eagled on a cold metal table, shackles on my wrists and ankles holding me to the surface.

I crane my neck to look around the room, and it’s pretty boring. Two doors, each on two opposite walls, and some sort of tech console about an arm’s length away from my table.

Too bad my wrists are shackled, I could try and reach it.

There aren’t any cameras as far as I can see, but cameras can be pretty easily hidden, so I’m pretty sure I’m being watched.

I don’t know how long I’ve been laying here, but I can hear footsteps now.

I try to relax my shoulders, trying to ready myself for whatever is to come.

The door on the left side of the room opens, and Secretary Pierce strolls in, looking smug.

I’ve met him a few times, he’s a dick.

I’m not exactly surprised he’s the kind of dick to kidnap me, but that still explains basically nothing.

“Comfortable, Agent Barton?” Pierce asks, stopping beside me.

“Not really.” I say dully. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me go and give me my clothes back?”

Pierce chuckles a bit. “I’m afraid not, Agent Barton. Unfortunately, you are a threat to HYDRA.”   
“HYDRA? The nazis Cap fought? You can’t be saying you restarted the nazis.”

“We’re not nazis.” Pierce says, and I can tell he hates being called a nazi from the tightness in his voice. Nazis always hate being called nazis.

“Yeah, you are. But I’m not gonna spend my time arguing that point, since I know you’ll just deny it. So what, you were a spy in SHIELD? You have like a dozen followers, maybe?”

I know he must have more, since it was SHIELD agents that attacked me at the Triskelion, and Sitwell that called me to the Triskelion to get attacked in the first place, but I don’t want to let him think he has more power over me than he does.

Pierce chuckles again. “Try hundreds. At least half of SHIELD is HYDRA. And we’re going to rebuild the world.”

“You sound like a Bond villain, but less cool.” I say, head reeling. Good thing my mouth works seperate from my brain, I can keep making quips while I process this.

Has HYDRA been inside SHIELD this whole time, since it was first started?

And what does that mean for the battle of New York?

SHIELD was going to nuke New York when the chitauri were attacking, the whole “being nazis” thing explains that I suppose.

Would they have let Loki kill me, since I’m a threat to HYDRA?

Is Fury HYDRA? Hill?

Fuck, wait, Fury is dead. It must’ve been Pierce that ordered him killed, meaning Fury wasn’t HYDRA, but is now dead.

I know Nat isn’t HYDRA. That much I know.

I think Pierce monologues a bit more, but my ears are ringing, images pelting my head.

Case files about HYDRA I’ve seen, basically everything I’ve ever heard about Pierce, anything that could be remotely helpful in this situation.

Pierce is rambling on about how HYDRA is everywhere, deep in the government, systemically placed everywhere, blah blah blah.

As soon as I get out of this, the Avengers will come together and we’ll think of a plan.

I can’t start freaking out, feeling overwhelmed.

I have a team now, we can do this.

“The STRIKE team should be here soon to greet you, once their mission succeeds. Rumlow said he wanted you in particular.”

Fuck.

Fucking fuck fuck fuck.

Shit.

Rumlow is HYDRA.

Rumlow is HYDRA and so is the whole fucking STRIKE team, the STRIKE team that I’ve been working with for years, Rumlow who I hooked up with like twice, they’re all fucking nazis.

Nat and I worked with them, Cap worked with them.

We trusted them, we did missions, we were a team.

And Rumlow requested me.

And I’m naked.

It all clicks into place.

Oh fuck.

No pun intended, shut up.

“Their mission?” I ask, glad to hear my voice is still confident and quizzical.

“Don’t think I’ll be spilling any secrets, Barton. Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Pierce tousles my hair, almost in a paternal way, but jokes on him, my father was garbage.

I glare at him as he leaves.

And now it’s a waiting game again.

I try and count the seconds as I wait, but I lose track.

When the door on the right side of the room opens, I don’t know how long it’s been since Pierce left.

I lift my head from the table, already knowing it’s Rumlow, but dreading the confirmation of my hunch.

Yep, it’s Rumlow and the whole fucking STRIKE team as promised.

I hate being right.

In good news, they all look like shit. They definitely did not succeed at whatever their mission was that Pierce mentioned.

“Bad day?” I snark.

Rumlow growls and starts jabbing buttons on the console, and I hear a mechanical whirring noise before my body starts moving.

The shackles holding me to the table are shifting, I have no fucking clue how they work, don’t ask, and they move my wrists and ankles so I’m in a position on my hands and knees, ass in the air.

I try and keep my face level, my expression unrevealing.

I can’t look fucking embarrassed, that will only make everyone laugh at me.

Rumlow has seen me naked before, and I’ve seen him naked, but to be fair that was a very different situation.

It was consensual, and I was topping.

And now it’s the whole fucking STRIKE team, and I’m pinned down like a butterfly in a display case, and I’ve been in bad situations before but this is the most fucking humiliated I’ve ever been.

I guess this will go on the list with Budapest of things to never mention.

The STRIKE team jeers at me, and someone smacks my ass.

I jolt against the shackles, and they hold fast.

This is not going to be fun at all.

“Who kicked your ass, Rumlow? Wish I could’ve seen it.” I say, trying once again.

Yeah, I know it’s idiotic to be aggravating him, but I can’t stand the way he looks at me like a predator surveying its prey.

“Your pal Cap.” Rumlow snarls at me, clearly already upset.

I can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I heard he’s a ‘traitor.’ You really tried to beat him in hand to hand? Are you that fucking stupid?”

For that comment I’m given a slap in the face from Rumlow, who’s now standing in front of me, his hips jutting too close to my face.

“You’re a traitor too, Hawk.” He sneers. “You wanna know how HYDRA deals with traitors?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“With HYDRA, there is only order. And order only comes through pain.”

I roll my eyes.

“I’d prefer torture to hearing your stupid nazi propoganda.”

“That can be arranged.” Rumlow says, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

Oh fucking hell.

Why can’t I ever shut up.

“Hey Brock, how about we shut up that stupid mouth of his?” Rollins suggests, moving next to Rumlow, hands already on his fly. “I know you have first dibs on his ass, but I think I deserve to get his throat before it gets ruined.”

“Go ahead, Jack.” Rumlow chuckles, moving out of my eyesight, presumably behind me.

I keep eye contact with Rollins, giving him my best glare as he frees his cock from his pants.

He slaps me with it a few times, just for fun, but I don’t let my glare falter.

On instinct my thoughts turn to all the SHIELD training I’ve been through, stuff to prepare me for this situation.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been raped, but going methodically through protocol helps me center myself, focus.

Of course in training they say that rape as torture is just another form of torture, it’s not about sex or arousal or getting off. It’s just about power and control and pain. That doesn’t apply here, because I know for a fucking fact this is so Rumlow can get off. So yeah, power and control and pain, but he’s certainly aroused by this.

Rollins too, but that’s just because he’s a sick fuck. He’d get off on hurting anyone.

“Open up, Hawk.” Rollins sneers, frowning at my resolve, and he shoves his cock at my mouth, but I keep my lips firmly closed.

I know I’m only delaying the inevitable, but I can feel the gross warm heat of Rollins’ cock too close to my face, smell the stink of precum, and I am so dreading what I know is to come.

Pun not intended.

“Gag him.” I hear Rumlow call from behind me, along with the familiar sound of a bottle of lube being opened. “He’ll bite your cock off if you won’t, the bitch.”

Well he’s not wrong.

There’s a gleam of silver in Rollins’ hand as he whips out a gag from who knows where.

Oh shit, it’s a spider gag.

Rollins advances on me and grabs my face, the gag ready.

“Hold on a sex-sec-” Fuck my stupid fucking brain.

The metal scrapes painfully against my teeth as it enters my mouth, shoved in too quickly, and I can feel my chapped lips straining at being spread so wide.

Rollins only laughs, securely fastening the gag around the back of my head.   
My mouth is now wide open, jaws spread so I can’t bite down and chop anyone’s cocks off with my teeth.

And it's a goddamn spider gag, metal stretching out the press against my cheeks, preventing me from moving the ring in my mouth.

Damnit Clint. Now I’m gagged and the last thing I said was “hold on a sex” because I’m fucking scared so my brain isn’t working but then again it never is and I’m squeezing my eyes shut as Rollins laughs and shoves his cock at my mouth again and I can’t do anything to stop it-

I scream in pain through the gag and around Rollins’ cock as Rumlow enters me, no prep, his own spit as lube.

There’s laughing, pokes and jabs at my arms and chest, people twisting and pulling at my nipples.

Rollins is choking me, his cock already in my throat, and Rumlow is pounding into me mercilessly, his hands gripping my ass tight, and everyone is laughing at me and adding in their lovely bits of commentary.

“Fucking pathetic. Wonder what your precious little Avengers would say if they saw you now.”   
“They’d probably want a piece.”

“One thing he’s good for, he’s got no powers.”

“Imagine this ass taking a god’s cock…”

“That’s why Loki took him I bet.”

“Ha! Yeah! Knew it’s his purpose!”

“Little bitch will get on his knees for anyone.”

“Maybe we’ll bring in your pal Cap later for a turn with you.”

I’m tuning out, barely moving or registering what’s happening.

“Stay with us, Hawk.” A voice jeers, and a stun baton slams into my chest.

The small mercy is that it’s not activated.

There’s an awful crack as the baton hits me, my ribs.

Wonderful.

I groan in pain, and that is received with a slap to the face.

I don’t know how many more people fuck me, I lose count, but it’s at least half a dozen.

Rumlow finished in me, but I’m not sure who else.

I feel numb.

My mouth tastes like cum and I can feel my ass dripping whenever someone pulls out.

The insults and hits keep up the whole time.

I think they’re going to leave when my mouth finally gets a break for longer than thirty seconds, but it’s just so Rollins can put his ugly face close to mine.

“Gonna make you bleed, Barton.” Rollins drawls, and he unsheathes his knife from his belt.

His fucking knife.

He’s always polishing it in the locker room before and after missions, he fucking loves the thing.

He gently strokes the knife across my cheek, not cutting the skin.

I glare at him.

“Where to make my mark…” He muses, and the tip of the knife wanders across my lips, down my throat, along my nipples, and finally stops at my lower arm, right where my arm guard goes, where the bowstring grazes the skin, that adrenaline feeling when I’m about to loose an arrow.

He slashes his knife deep into my skin, and I scream against the gag once again.

Rollins just laughs.

And then.

I feel something cold and wet on the gash when he pulls the knife away.

His tongue.

I jolt in the shackles, my face pure disgust, but of course the shackles don’t budge.

Rollins laughs and pulls away, then dips his fingers in the cut on my arm and smears my own blood across my lips.

“Painted like a street whore.” He comments.

“Hand the knife over. Gonna brand him.” Rumlow practically snarls, his voice all lust and power.

I watch the knife exchange hands, craning my neck so I can see, and Rumlow’s smile makes me want to throw up.

I probably would, if not for the gag.

I blink a moment too long, trying to swallow the bile rising in my throat, and Rumlow is suddenly out of my eyesight.

“He’s squirming. Why don’t you take a turn, Murphy.” Rollins says casually, as if offering him a soda.

I’ve met Murphy once, he’s a nervous tech, a kissass.

And now he’s in front of me and shoving his cock in my mouth, and I have no choice but to let my throat relax and take it.

Right as Murphy’s cock slams against the back of my throat, I feel the cold metal of Rollins’ knife dig into my skin again, but now it’s on my fucking ass, like a fucking cattle brand, and I make a strangled noise of pain.

Murphy moans.

“Now you’ll never forget you’re mine.” Rumlow hisses.

I can feel the blood dripping down my legs, mixing with all of the cum I’m covered in, and I don’t want to imagine what Rumlow wrote.

My ass is just overwhelmed in pain everywhere, all of it blending together.

I don’t even get a chance to get used to the pain of Rumlow’s brand before someone else is shoving their cock in my ass, sliding in easily.

They let me zone out now, at least.

I space out, noticing the fucking, but not reacting or thinking about it.

It doesn’t matter, they’re not expecting me to suck eagerly at their cocks or anything.

I think about the Avengers, getting back to them.

I think about us getting together as a team again, and defeating HYDRA together.

I imagine Thor’s lightning striking down all the SHIELD agents that were secretly HYDRA.

Tony blasting every HYDRA computer console with his suit.

Cap smashing his shield right into Pierce’s head.

Nat and I taking down the STRIKE team side by side.

Me releasing half a dozen arrows into Rumlow’s heart.

I can’t wait to get out of here.

This is fucking personal.

It’s not just torture for Rumlow, so I won’t make his death the one of just another HYDRA goon.

“Pierce needs us looking for Cap. Someone just reported sighting him.” I hear Rumlow say through the fog of my thoughts.

My mouth is emptied, although still with the gag in it, and I’m hastily finished in before whoever was fucking me pulls out.

I feel people wipe their dirty hands on my back.

I’m slumped in the shackles, barely staying up. I make a strangled noise into the gag, and I honestly don’t know if it’s a taunt or a plea for mercy.

Rumlow laughs and pats my cheek condescendingly.

“Hail HYDRA.” He smirks.

I glare at him.

“Sit tight.” Rollins laughs. “I’m sure you’ll be popular as a victory party treat when we come back. SHIELD will be dead, gone, obliterated.”

I mumble a comment about buying a thesaurus, which earns Rollins’ hand on my throat, squeezing.

“And all that will be left of your precious Avengers will be its idiot whores. HYDRA’s playthings.”

I gasp for air, his fingers squeezing tighter.

“Pretty soon SHIELD will be a distant memory. All you’ll know is HYDRA’s cock.”

He finally lets go, and I start coughing.

Spit, semen, and blood coat my lips, which ache and sting where they’ve split.

The STRIKE team leaves, still laughing and chattering with each other.

I’m left alone, still on my hands and knees, filthy, and in pain.

\--------

I must’ve fallen asleep, because I’m waking up again.

I’m still shackled to the table and miserable.

Somehow I managed to sleep on my hands and knees, joints painfully locked.

I wish Rumlow had moved the shackles to the way they were before, so I was lying down flat.

It might hurt my ass, but at least my arms and legs would get a rest.

I look around the room, and it’s still boring and empty, but now the floor around my table is splattered with blood and cum.

I try and stretch as much as I can in the shackles, now that I have time alone with nothing happening I can actually feel sore.

I wonder if anyone has noticed I’m missing.

I wonder how Cap and Nat are doing fighting HYDRA, how Nat is holding up. How Cap is holding up too.

I know Nat must feel guilty she’s been working for nazis this whole time, but I can’t even imagine how Cap is feeling.

He defeated HYDRA, he “died” knowing he defeated HYDRA. He came out of the ice and that was his only certainty.

And now…

There’s crashing sound outside the door, and all of my muscles tense, my adrenaline pumping.

There’s more crashing, then muffled gunshots, hurried footsteps, screams.

Did Nat come to save me?

The door on the left slams open, rattling on its hinges, and a shadow steps in.

There are deep green eyes cutting into mine, staring into my soul. I stare desperately back, unable to muster up anything but a pained whimper through the gag, and I know how pathetic I must look to this man.   
He’s tall, strong, armed, and clearly dangerous.

I’m stark-fucking-naked and he’s in full tac gear, and he has his arm, the metal fucking arm gleaming in the fluorescent lights.

He steps towards me, and I can’t help but flinch.

He could snap me in two like a twig if he wanted.

“Please.” I whimper into the gag, and I can feel a slow mix of spit and semen steadily crawling its way past the metal of the gag and down my chin.

The man raises a knife, holding it in his right hand, attached to a very human and very muscled arm, and I prepare myself for the pain as it digs into my skin, just like with Rollins and Rumlow.

But it never comes.

Instead there’s the sound of a computer failing, he plunged the knife into the console Rumlow used to move my restraints.

The shackles all open at once with a satisfying  _ click!  _ and I fall sideways, my joints locked from all the time spent in such an awkward position on my hands and knees, and I fully expect to hit the cold floor that it covered in my own blood and nazi semen, but-

He catches me.

The man with the mask and gorgeous green eyes catches me.

His arms are so fucking strong, but he cradles me as gently as a kitten.

He sets me down on my feet, then takes his knife and cuts the strap of the gag, and I spit it out onto the floor.

“Thank you.” I gasp, and retch a bit onto the floor.

I wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t.

I look up from the floor, having been mesmerized by the bootprints left in my blood and others’ cum, and I notice something odd about the man’s mask.

It’s not a mask at all, the way it wraps all the way around his head, covering the entire lower half of his face. There’s a piece for ventilation so he can breathe, but there’s no way he’s able to talk with the way it’s built.

It’s a muzzle.

One that he can’t take off.

I reach up a hand, and his eyes flash dangerously, but he doesn’t move.

I carefully examine the subtle mix of metal and polymer that makes up the muzzle as I stretch my body out, still uncomfortable from all my time spent in one position.

There’s a locking mechanism at the back, one out of reach of the wearer, and I fiddle with it until it breaks, a little red light flashing on the lock itself, and the whole muzzle snaps off his face, onto the floor.

“That looked uncomfortable.” I say, and wince at my own scratchy voice. My throat is raw from screaming, and all the cock I took didn’t help.

“It was.” The man says, and he seems to be testing his voice almost. “Your gear is in the next room. Everyone in this facility is gone or dead. Go.”

His voice is rough too, from disuse it sounds like, but it’s also beautiful.

His voice flows like chocolate, dark chocolate, at least 80% cacao, maybe with salted caramel in it.   
Ok yes, I’m hungry.

“Thank you.” I smile at him, forgetting for a moment that I’m still completely naked in front of him.

He nods, like a soldier would, no smile, and leaves.

I stand there dumbly for a few moments, even after I can’t see his retreating shadow anymore, analysing the interaction.

Lord knows why he was here, or why he saved me, but he did.

I grab each of my ankles in turn to stretch my calves out a bit before going to the other door in the room the man pointed to.

My savior was right, my uniform and gear is all just sitting there, on a table.

There’s a towel too, it smells like sweat but I use it to wipe myself off all the same.

What’s a bit of sweat when I’m covered in blood, cum, and Odin knows what else?

Oh shut up, Thor’s swears have grown on me.

The towel now thoroughly ruined and my body still grimy but at least not dripping with fluids, I pull my uniform back on.

I smile at the familiar weight of the quiver on my back, even though I notice all my specialized arrows have been taken. Just regular ones in stock now.

I grab my bow and survey the room to see if there’s anything else I can grab, and that’s when I notice the dead bodies.

Just three of them, HYDRA guards by their uniforms, and I remember the man who saved me saying everyone was gone or dead.

I grab two guns from one of the guards, and sling my bow over my back with the quiver in favor of keeping both firearms in my hands. I also remember to snag the HYDRA IDs of all three guys, and slip them into my pocket. Coulson will be glad I grabbed them, if he’s still alive and not a nazi.

I make it through the compound easily, passing by dead bodies and abandoned equipment, the signs of a struggle.

Did the man have others helping him? Or did he single-handedly take everyone down?

I wouldn’t be surprised if he did it alone, with that arm and intense gaze.

He could do anything he wanted.

The compound I’m in is like a fucking maze, I duck into three or four different rooms that are all dead ends, and five hallways that end the same.

I stop for breath in front of what looks like a bank vault door torn right off the hinges, and fuck my curiosity, I step past the wrecked door into the vault.

Am I in a bank?

This is definitely a vault, but set up to be a torture room.

Right in the middle of all the machines there’s a big chair.

The chair is surrounded by dead bodies and has bloody footprints leading away from it, towards the door.

It looks fucking terrifying, like a torture device from a horror movie.

Definitely not any sort of torture device I’ve seen before, and I’ve seen a lot.

I don’t spend another second taking in any more of the vault, I get the fuck out of there, it’s too creepy. I keep going down hallways and making random turns until I finally make it to what looks like a lobby.

It’s clearly not been used as a bank in a while, all the logos that read “Ideal Federal Savings Bank” are faded and occasionally missing a letter or two.

But there’s three pieces of good news that the lobby brings, one: it contains the exit to the outside, two: I know exactly where I am, and three: there’s a coffee machine.

I make a beeline to the coffee machine, just sitting out on one of the lobby tables, an uncomfortable looking dusty armchair on either side of it.

Escaping is now the second-most thought in my head, because coffee first.

Always coffee first.

I smack the machine a few times when it doesn’t respond to me, but in a few achingly long minutes I have a shitty paper cup full of weak, lukewarm coffee.

I still smile when I sip it, because I honestly don’t know how long it’s been since I last had coffee, right before the whole “being captured by SHIELD but it’s really HYDRA” thing.

Coffee now acquired, I head for the main door. I’ve been in this part of the city before, so I know how to get from here to the Triskelion, or to mine and Nat’s DC apartment.

But right as I reach for the door, I trip.

I trip over another dead nazi (in SHIELD gear), and spill my coffee on the floor.

“Aww, coffee, no!”

I also manage to twist my ankle weirdly, but honestly that’s not top tier on my injuries list right now.

Stepping over my tragically spilled coffee, I finally make it to the outside world.

Oh, and look at that, there’s smoke rising from the remains of the Triskelion, which is now remains!

I take a deep breath and start the walk to the apartment, in the hopes Nat will be there to explain what the hell happened and help patch up my injuries.

Usually I can insist I’m fine, but this time I genuinely won’t be able to do anything else until I rest and get some medical attention.

Fuck, except Nat is going to insist I go to a doctor to get tested for STDs, or see Bruce for it at least.

Which means people knowing.

And I obviously trust Bruce and the other Avengers, but it’s not like I want it to be broadcast to the whole team that this happened.

It’s a risk of the job being a spy, but I know no one will understand that.

The only people that know this has happened to me before are Nat, Phil, Fury, Hill, and now the random angel who saved me.

I’m not ashamed, I just know everyone will take it the wrong way.

Bruce and Cap will try and pity me and baby me and treat me like I’m fragile, and Tony would try and make a joke out of it. And yeah, Nat and I joke about it, but that’s because we’re basically platonic soulmates and trust each other and call each other on our bullshit and know how to joke about our trauma to cope and not go too far.

I don’t trust Tony to not go too far, okay?

Like I said, it’s a risk of the job.

Except this time it was different.

This time I know Rumlow was doing it because of his lust, because of that stupid time we hooked up.

It was torture, but it was also personal.

All the other times it was just meaningless torture, it was just about power and control, like all the SHIELD trainings instruct.

This time it was different.

And I know the team won’t understand any of it, not torture or Rumlow or anything about my lovely spy life.

I can tell people are staring at me as I make it to the apartment building and get into the elevator, but I can’t really give two shits at this point.

I just want to collapse on mine and Nat’s bed.

Because yes, we share a bed.

We do a lot of back and forth from New York to DC and so on for missions, so Tony bought us an apartment here to share.

He teased us mercilessly about only wanting one bed, because he doesn’t understand platonic cuddling apparently, but we insisted.

Nat is my closest friend in the world, friend can’t even describe it. We’re platonic soulmates.

We cuddle after missions and know exactly how to talk to each other and when to not talk and all the right places to push. We get each other.

I’m leaning heavily against the apartment door as I open it, and fall onto the couch as soon as I’m inside.

“Was wondering where you were, Barton. You scared the shit out of me.” Nat says, sounding pissed, but I know that’s to mask her worry.

She lifts me into a sitting position on the couch.   
“You’re a mess.” She comments.

“We beat HYDRA?” I ask, cringing at how my voice cracks.

“Yeah, we did. Lay down on the bed, I’ll tell you the story while I get a sense of your endless injuries? So I figure out what I can fix?”

“Yeah.”

I grunt as I stand, and Nat supports me as I stumble to the bedroom, and lay down on our bed.   
Nat grabs our first aid kit and starts telling me what the hell I missed.

\--------

“And that’s basically what happened.” Nat says casually, and I wince as she finishes off the stitches in my arm. “Shit, they really do a number on you?” She asks, and I can hear the concern in her voice.

“Yeah.” I say. I know I won’t be able to keep what happened from her for long. But it’s always weird, bringing it up.

In the past I haven’t had to say it, it was obvious when we were captured together or when she saved me from whichever villain had me that time. And I’ve saved her dozens of times too, and it’s been the same.

We didn’t have to say it, we assumed from the injuries.

If we weren’t tortured together, we didn’t need to share to get a sense of what happened.

But she didn’t even get me out this time.

“It was Rumlow. Must’ve been after they failed to get Cap in the elevator. After they left, a man saved me.” I say briefly.

“A man?” Nat asks.

“Didn’t say much. Just undid the shackles and left. Took down everyone in the bank.”

I don’t know why, but I don’t want to share more about my savior.

He’s almost private to me, personal.

My guardian angel, a secret.

And yeah, I know that’s cheesy and stupid and weirdly religious, but it’s how I feel.

Obviously he’s a real guy, I don’t believe in angels or any of that crap, but calling him my angel just… feels right.

Oh fuck, I need to stop thinking about him like he’s my boyfriend.

He saved me, that’s it.

I don’t even know him!

I need to stop simping for every man I see.

Nat snorts. “He was hot.” She can always read me perfectly.

“Yes, but that's besides the point.” I sit up and lean against the many pillows I need to sleep on.

I obviously  _ can _ sleep without a million pillows, but I prefer them. Less nightmares.

“Lucky for you, I was able to fix up almost everything. You’ll want a proper shower tonight though, after a bit of rest. I didn’t check up on you down there, as I don’t know how to test you for anything. Anything covered by your boxers remains a mystery to me, but I’m guessing you’re filthy down there too.”

“Yeah.” I confirm, staring down at my hands. “Nat, they-” My voice falters, and my face goes red. “Rumlow.” I choke out, and my throat tightens as tears well up in my eyes.

“Something bad?” Nat asks, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You can cry, it’s okay. I know you didn’t cry there, you can cry now.”

How does she always know the exact right thing to say?

I nod. “My ass. He wrote something. I don’t know what. I need you to tell me.”

“Are you sure?” I can’t read her tone of voice, she’s specifically keeping her emotions hidden. Usually she doesn’t hide them from me.

“You’re going to insist on me getting tested, and I want to know before that happens so that whenever whatever doctor sees-” My voice breaks again, and the tears fall. “Just tell me what the bastard wrote.” I sob.

Natasha nods.

“Lay down on your stomach, mind your ribs.” She says.

Nat stands up from the bed, and I turn over as gingerly as I can, so I’m on my stomach. My ribs are aching, but Nat wrapped them up the right way and gave me pain meds, which should kick in soon. I shimmy my pajama pants down my legs a bit, and my boxers too, wincing at the pain.

“When we go to the tower Bruce can give you stronger stuff for the pain. This is all we’ve got here, thanks to the woodchipper incident.” Nat says, and I can hear how tight her voice is. She’s stalling.

“Just tell me.” I say, deadpan, not bothering to attempt a half-hearted chuckle at the mention of the infamous woodchipper incident.

“It’s his initials, Clint. BR.” Nat says, equally stoic.

I quickly pull up my pants and move to be sitting again. I can’t feel the pain anymore, just the burning in my face.

I angrily jam a few buttons on the TV remote, not really caring what I put on. It’s The Office.

Nat doesn’t say anything, just sits next to me silently. She’s the best.

We both stare at the TV for a few hours, letting the episodes autoplay, but neither of us are really paying attention.

After about three episodes I lean my head on Nat’s shoulder and nuzzle close to her, letting her wrap her arms around me.

“Take a nap. You need one.” She says softly, and that’s all I need to drift off to sleep.

\--------

When I wake up, Nat is still holding me, RuPaul’s Drag Race is on the TV, and there are two mugs of coffee on the bedside table.

“I fucking love you.” I say sleepily, reaching for the coffee.

“Spill this and I kill you.” She says, handing me my mug.

I chuckle and take a sip.

I moan at the taste, it’s a mocha and it’s dark and it’s so fucking good.

“Glad you like it.” Nat smiles. “The goal was to get you in a good mood.”   
“What bad news do you have?” I say sullenly, taking another sip.

“It’s not news. I stitched you up and set your ribs, but you need to get tested for STDs.”

I don’t say anything in response.

“You need to get tested. You know that.”

“I’m not going to see a doctor. You know that.”

“I know that. So if Bruce-”

“Nat, the team can’t know.”   
“And they won’t.” Nat says calmly, speaking to me like I’m a child. “You need to be tested, and Bruce doing it is the only option that doesn’t involve doctors.”

“If Bruce knows, Tony will find out, and then tell everyone.”

“Bruce understands confidentiality. And he won’t judge you.”

“I know Bruce won’t tell, but Tony would walk in or watch the security tapes or ask JARVIS and then ask me what chick I’m hooking up with and call me a slut-”

“Clint. Breathe.” Nat puts a hand on my chest, over my heart. I flinch at first, but she doesn’t move her hand away. “дышать.”

Her hand is warm and familiar on my chest, and I try and slow my breathing to match it with hers.

I didn’t realize I was hyperventilating.

“A bit better?” Nat asks quietly, after a bit of time has passed.

I don’t know if it’s been a few seconds or a few hours to be honest.

“Thanks, Nat.” I say, my voice shaking.

“You know I know how hard it is. But you also know I’m right about needing to get an actual doctor to look at you. You need to heal. How about we make a deal. You let me drag you back to the tower, Bruce will check your injuries and get you tested, and you’ll stay in the tower for however long Bruce says you need to rest for. I will cuddle you the whole time and bring you whatever snacks and coffee you want. You get to pick what TV we watch. And you don’t see anyone you don’t want to the whole time.”

“...Fine.”

“Now go shower, Bruce will not appreciate if you stink up his lab.”

I roll my eyes and get up, grunting a bit.

Nat gives me a platonic forehead kiss, and I head to the bathroom very carefully to finally get myself clean.

But something tells me no amount of soap I use will get rid of the feeling of Rumlow’s hands on my skin, at least not for a while.

\--------

I can tell Bruce wants to ask. I can fucking tell.

Nat let me shower and get a night’s sleep before we went back to the tower, but now we’re at the tower, in Bruce’s lab, and he just looked me over.

He praised Nat’s work on my ribs and stitches, and gave me pain meds.

And he tested me for STDs, which I am  _ not _ telling you about.

“I’ll have your results soon.” Bruce says, instead of asking, which I know he wants to do. “And on the bright side, you won’t need surgery. I want you to rest for two weeks. No over-exertion.”

“Can I go to the range?” I ask, already not excited at basically being confined to bed for two weeks.

“In a week, if you can do it without pain meds.”

“I’ll watch him, Bruce. Make sure he stays put.” Nat assures him, and I roll my eyes.

“I’m not a baby.”

“Did I say you’re a baby?” Nat sighs. “You need to rest. Bruce has seven PHDs, listen to him. Don’t try and tell me you know more than a guy with seven PHDs.”

“Fine. But you have to princess-carry me to my room.” I pout.   
Nat rolls her eyes and lifts me into her arms, and I snuggle into her warmth.

“Thank you, Bruce.” I say, glancing up at him.

“Of course, Clint.” He smiles. “I’ll tell Nat the results in person when I have them, so there’s nothing on the computers or on paper connecting you with all this.”   
I cling to Nat like a koala. “Bruce, you’re the best. Soon as I’m healed we’re getting high together, my treat.”

“I know you mean Tony’s treat, but definitely.”

I smile as Nat thanks Bruce again and carries me to my room.

\--------

“He had these eyes…” I mumble. “They were green, like a forest. He stared into my soul…” I giggle a bit.

“You’re so far gone on pain meds.” Nat laughs, stroking my hair.

“I’m right!” I insist. “He was an angel! My angel of music!” I start warbling Phantom of the Opera, and Natasha groans.

I don’t realize I fell asleep until I wake up in Nat’s arms, the room now dark.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty. Enjoy your five hour nap?”

“I slept for five hours?” I yawn.

“Yeah. Bruce was right about those meds, they really did the trick. How’s the pain?”   
“Basically not there. A bit, but it’s tolerable.”

“Good. We’ve got an Avengers training session in two weeks, Steve just called in. We’re going to work on taking out any remaining HYDRA bases.”

I grin wide, already ready to get back in the action and take down HYDRA for good.

\--------

“Had to put a little coffee in him, but he’s raring to go.” I pull open the van door, and watch Scott clamber out. I chuckle a bit and pat him on the back. I look to Cap for approval (shut up, I know I have daddy issues), and he smiles at me.

I look past Cap to see who he brought for the team, and I smile at Sam, who’s standing a bit behind Steve.

Sam’s always been fun to train with.

And standing near Sam is-

Deep green eyes.

It’s those deep green eyes.

I know it’s the man who saved me from HYDRA ages ago.

His hair is a lot cleaner, and he’s wearing a regular shirt and jeans now, and he’s still so fucking gorgeous.

Once my initial simping is over and done with, I have the brains to be completely humiliated.

Scott and Cap are talking about whatever, but my eyes and the mystery man’s are locked.

At least I’m not naked and filthy this time?

I can’t say anything about recognizing, that would give it all away.

Steve would ask how, and then I’d have to tell him.

Nat is the only one that knows what happened when HYDRA took me then, and I intend to keep it that way.

I blink, and suddenly everyone is splitting off to different vehicles to gear up.

“Clint? You alright?” Cap asks, concerned. He’s holding his uniform in his shield, using it like a basket.

“Yeah.” I reply, tearing my eyes away from the man, my green eyed angel.

“He was set up. It wasn’t him that bombed the UN.” Steve says defensively.

“Er, who?” I ask, suddenly struggling to remember the briefing Cap gave me over the phone. To be fair, the service was spotty and I couldn’t hear a lot.

“Bucky.”

And it all clicks.

Why the man looked just the tiniest bit familiar when he saved me all that time ago, why he’s here now, why he was with HYDRA to save me.

Cap’s long lost best friend, Bucky.

Who Cap has been searching for since DC but will barely talk about to anyone.

Who was captured after he fell off the train and brainwashed by HYDRA (according to Nat).

Who broke out of said brainwashing when he saw Cap again.

Who was framed for bombing the UN, but didn’t do it, but Tony is mad about it.

It’s Bucky.

The Winter Soldier, who Nat will bring up when she gets frustrated about a dead lead on a mission.

Who she got the scar from, the one right above her hip.

Who shot Fury.

I didn’t put it together at the time, but it was no doubt the Winter Soldier who saved me from HYDRA.

He was breaking out of his brainwashing, he had just saved Cap from the river, and he had gone back to the HYDRA base on instinct, then killed everyone because he was pissed about being brainwashed.

He saved me.

Bucky saved me.

“Hey, Cap, I know about brainwashing better than anyone. Just didn’t know for sure it was him, you never really opened up about  _ who _ you were searching for with Sam. I’m glad you have him back.” I manage to say.

There’s a bit of green in Cap’s eyes, but a lighter green than Bucky’s.

“Get changed quick, they’re evacuating the airport.” Steve says, and crawls into his old timey car to change.

“It’s good to see you again.” A voice behind me says, and it’s his voice, oh fuck, his voice.

His voice is still low and rough, but I can tell he’s speaking differently.

More confident, as if daring me to tell him to shut up.

His voice alone makes me melt.

“You too.” I smile back. “I’m glad you’re safe. Well I mean, obviously we’re in danger, but uh, more safe.” Can he tell how sweaty my palms suddenly are?

“Do you want me to distract everyone? So you can change alone in the van?” He asks, a hint of awkwardness in his voice.

I notice that we’re the only ones not in vehicles and still in street clothes.

“I’ll be fine. I can change quick. Plus basically everyone’s changed. But uh, thanks.”

Bucky offers me a nod, and I smile and hop quickly into the back of the van, hoping he didn’t see the hopefully not too obvious blush on my face. I check in the rearview mirror once I’ve changed into my gear, and thankfully my face isn’t red anymore.

\--------

I pace and work out.

It’s been five days in the Raft. Tony visited on day two. It’s day six.

I spend my time pacing my cell and doing a workout routine that consists of pushups, situps, and crunches.

We get food twice a day. We get a trip to the bathroom twice a day. In the morning we get a shower in addition to using a toilet. They don’t let us brush our teeth.

It’s different for Wanda, because they’re all scared of her.

She doesn’t get to shower, because that would mean taking the collar off. They take the straightjacket off so she can eat, but she’s always supervised closely and only gets fifteen minutes.

She never finishes the whole plate, just picks sullenly at the shitty prison mush offered to her.

Tony acted like he cared when he visited, it was cute.

It’s a fucking underwater prison, what did he expect?

The guards beat me yesterday, on day five.   
I shouted at them, so they beat the everliving shit out of me.

And yes, I did have a good reason for shouting at them.

They threatened to put a muzzle on Wanda which I was not about to fucking let happen.

The straightjacket and power-dampening collar are already too much.

She’s a kid, not a threat.

So no, I’m not going to let them put a muzzle on her for coughing, which is literally what happened.

She coughed, which apparently seemed “threatening.”

So I shouted at the guards, and they didn’t put a muzzle on her, but as mentioned, beat the everliving shit out of me for a few hours.

They dragged me away to another room to do it, presumably so there would be no video evidence from the surveillance cameras.

Secretary Ross came in at some point, didn’t stop them. He just taunted me, said this was the consequence for breaking the law.

I told him I highly doubt the Sokovia accords have a whole section specifying to beat me up.

He stepped forward and stepped right onto my knee, a resounding crack echoing through the room.

And then he left, and the guards kept going.

They stopped eventually, when I was exhausted enough to stop talking back.

They tossed me back into my cell, bloody and bruised, and didn’t give me dinner.

Sam was worrying up a storm about me, I insisted I was fine.

And now it’s day six and I’m tired and hungry and kind of worried I’m getting sick, because my cell is suddenly way too cold.

The door opens, and I prepare for the guards to come in to use me as their personal punching bag again, but it’s Cap.

He doesn’t have his shield, which is odd, but he’s in his suit and has a gun in each hand.

He punches the panel on the wall that opens the cell doors, and all of our cells open.

“Wanda first.” Sam says urgently. “And Clint-”

“I’m fine.” I mumble, trying to get to my feet. I fall over.

Cap rushes to Wanda’s cell, and I hear some very colorful and very un-American language as he sees the collar.

“Hey.” There’s a hand on my shoulder.

It’s Bucky.

Again.

“Hi.” I manage a small smile through the shattering pain in my ankle.

“Can you walk?”

I look away from Bucky’s gorgeous eyes for a moment and am pleased to see Wanda’s collar is off, and she, Sam, and Scott are conferring with Cap.

“Nope. Ankle.”

“Mind if I carry you out then?”

“Be my guest.” Bucky lifts me into his arms bridal style, and he’s just as gentle with me as I remember. “We need to stop running into each other this way.” I cough, my smile growing.

Bucky smiles back a bit. “We’ve got a quinjet waiting.” Bucky says. “Can you shoot if I carry you?”

“Yeah.” Bucky hands me a gun, and I take it.

I brace myself against him and hold it ready, but luckily we don’t run into any trouble on the way to the quinjet, all the guards are knocked out.

Our small group all piles into the jet, and Steve makes sure everyone gets strapped in and there are no immediate medical emergencies. I can see Nat’s red hair from behind the pilot’s seat.

Bucky sets me in a seat next to Wanda, which I’m grateful for.

Cap has gotten the damned collar off, but she’s still not speaking.

“We’re out, Wanda.” I assure her as we lift off from the Raft. “We’re safe.”

She gives a small nod.

Bucky is on her other side, and he looks at her gently.

He starts to sing.

I think it might be Hebrew, I don’t understand any of it.

He sings softly, and Wanda rests her head on his shoulder.

He gets to an English verse, and I understand.

“Shelter us beneath thy wings, o Adonai. Guard us from all harmful things, o Adonai. Keep us safe throughout the night, ‘til we wake with morning’s light. Teach us daily wrong from right, o Adonai. Amen.”

His voice is beautiful, rich and full.

I look away, this seems private, but I keep listening.

Bucky keeps singing throughout the whole flight, some songs I know, others in Hebrew that I don’t.

His voice washes over me like a calming wave, it helps the pain.

I fall asleep for the first time in a week.

\--------

King T’Challa gave all of us asylum, so we’re all currently recovering in Wakanda.

We got here a day ago, and Cap wanted all of us checked out by doctors, me especially, but I was stubborn.

T’Challa is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, considering that a little over a week ago we were fighting in an airport in Germany. He introduced me to his sister, Princess Shuri, and I agreed to let her look at my injuries.

I can tell everyone finds my “no doctors” policy annoying, but I didn’t budge. Nat wasn’t even there to support me.

She’s here now of course, now that I’m lying in a bed in my recovery room and all the pestering about medical checkups is over.

But Shuri was lovely, is lovely.

She was gentle and kind and nothing like a doctor, even though she’s a genius in basically all science, including medical science.

She’s also sarcastic and funny, so the exact kind of bedside manner I need.

Shuri said that at the end of the day I can move to the apartment that’s set up in the palace for me, there are apartments for all of us.

Cap and Bucky have one to share, and me, Wanda, and Nat have one.

Nat arrived earlier today, apparently she told the government to kiss her ass again, and she’s bothering me, as she does best.

“Clint, just tell me what happened at the Raft.” She says for the millionth time.

She’s sitting next to my bed drinking a smoothie. She brought one for me that I refuse to touch.

“And I said I don’t feel like sharing.”

They treated us like animals, Wanda especially.

If Nat wanted to know she could’ve gotten arrested with us.

“Clint-”

“Hey. Romanava. I spilled coffee on your new bed. You should go change the sheets.” Bucky strolls in, and I sigh in relief.

“Why were you in my apartment?” She demands.

“Our.” I correct.

“Wanda wanted to bake challah. It’s Friday.” He says. “Go change your sheets.”

“We’ll talk about this later, Clint.” Nat says, turning to me.

I roll my eyes at her, and she leaves.

“Thanks for saving me.” I say, turning my attention to Bucky. “Nat wouldn’t get off my ass about a debrief.”

“No problem.” He shrugs, sitting in the chair next to the head of my bed that Nat had been in. “How’re you feeling?”   
“Exhausted, but alive. Not sore, somehow. The medicine here is fucking amazing. Shuri is possibly my new best friend, if Nat decides to keep bothering me about the Raft.”

Bucky chuckles. “Yeah. My shoulder, it doesn’t hurt, where the arm’s gone. It’s incredible. I feel so light. Shuri’s a miracle worker. She said she’s already working on a way to get the HYDRA programming out of my head. Like, just make all the triggers obsolete.”

“That’s awesome.” I smile, sitting up a bit. I take a sip of the smoothie Nat brought, and holy fuck it’s delicious. “Don’t tell Nat I drank this.” I am not about to let her know I accepted her smoothie and love it.

“Secret’s safe with me. What flavor is it?”   
“I’m bad at identifying fruits, but it’s got banana and strawberry and I think raspberry and apple? It’s so fucking good. You gotta try it.”

I hold out the smoothie to Bucky, and he takes the cup and takes a tentative sip.

A smile spreads across his face.

“You’re right, it’s amazing.”

He hands the cup back, and I take another long sip.

“Thanks again. For not telling anyone. About when you saved me.” I say after a few minutes of silence.

“No need to thank me.” Bucky says. “It’s basic human decency.”

“Still. It means a lot. Nat is the only one I told about the whole Rumlow thing. It’s not something I wanted broadcasted to the whole team, and then I saw you and freaked- Just. Thank you. I owe you, like, a million.”

“Don’t mention it. But if you really want to repay me, give me another sip of that smoothie? And maybe keep me company on a walk around the palace, when you’re off bedrest? King T’Challa said I could explore a bit, and you seem like the perfect partner for an adventure.”

“Of course.” I grin and hand Bucky the cup.

“I want one last walk before I ask Shuri to put me in cryo. Until she figures out the solution to the programming.” He sips the smoothie casually, as if asking to be frozen like a popsicle in the exact same way his torturers did for seventy years is totally reasonable.

“Uh, this might be out of place, but that sounds idiotic.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. He hands me the smoothie back, and I set it down next to my bed.

“That’s what HYDRA did to control you. If you go back into cryofreeze, you’re basically saying they were right. That you need to be caged up and controlled.”

“I can’t trust my own mind. It’s safest-”

“You’re just giving in to your negative self talk. If you tell yourself you’re a monster, you’ll eventually become one. Therapy can help that, y’know.”   
“I don’t need therapy.” Bucky practically growls.

I shrug. “I’m not saying to start right away, while the programming is still in. But once it’s out, working through all this, being in a new century, coming to grips with the fact that you’re not a weapon to be used. And until Shuri figures all that out with your brain, explore. You could explore with me, so you’re not alone. But trust me, locking yourself up and saying that your torturers were right won’t help you.”

Bucky stays silent for a moment. “You’re right.” He finally says, very quietly.

“I can be, at times. Take up hobbies. Chill with me. Don’t isolate yourself.”

“Thank you.” He says, and those deep green eyes are staring right into mine again.

“No problem, man.” I smile.

\--------

We’re all back at the Avengers compound now, all of the Sokovia Accords drama being forgotten now that Tony and Steve made up, and it’s been nice being back in routine again.

There’s a lot more of us living here now, but I like it.

I head down to the range, figuring it will be empty since Nat and Sam are out on a mission dealing with some sort of slime monster thing.

I drop my gear bag on the bench press, which I am indeed using as a regular bench, and head for the targets, but Bucky is already here, shooting at a practice dummy. He’s hitting the wall with every shot.

“Bad day?” I ask cautiously, speaking before I step closer to Bucky so I don’t freak him out.

He grunts in response.

“...Want some chocolate?” I offer. “I have those Easter Robin’s Eggs in my bag. They’re really good.”

“Yeah, alright.” He sets his rifle down, and I lead him over to the bench press. I grab the chocolate from my bag of gear and hand it to Bucky.

“How’d you know to give me chocolate? Steve tell you? Need a strategy in case I go haywire? Smart.” He’s defensive.

“Nah. I keep a stash on me at all times. I’m kind of obsessed with sugar, and it usually helps bad days. Nat’s always yelling at me to see if I ate when I get fussy.” I grab a couple eggs and shove them in my mouth.

“Wouldn’t put it past Stark. Tony.” He clarifies. I always forget he knew Tony’s dad.

“What makes you think I’m anything like Tony? I’m offended.” I fake gasp as Bucky takes a single egg and nibbles at the candy shell carefully.

“Couldn’t get outta my own head. Missed every shot.” He grumbles at the egg. He has a New York lilt to his voice that I’ve never noticed before. He always sounds tense and restrained, but he seems slightly more relaxed now. I guess we go to the range for the same reason, to let go.

“I have days like that. I hate it. Feel so useless.”

Bucky’s adams’ apple bobs as he swallows his bit of chocolate, and he stares at me.

“Please, don’t give me the rant about my worth not being based upon-” I start to say, thinking he’s giving me the look Natasha or Bruce always give me when I say I’m useless and they’re about to lecture me, but he interrupts me.

“I feel that way too.” He says. “It’s not even about self esteem-”

“It’s just that feeling of emptiness. Like I’m supposed to have orders. I hate it. It’s how I felt with Loki in my brain, eager to please, to serve-”

“What?”   
“Shit, I uh, thought all the Loki crap was common knowledge. He used the scepter on me, the one with the mind stone, that’s in Vision’s head now. He brainwashed me with it. I had all my memories, but he warped me, made me want to serve him, see him as my master. Nat knocked me out of it, literally, banged up my head pretty bad to get him out. That’s when we got the team together for the first time, stopped him from, y’know, taking over the world.”

“So Steve just has a penchant for taking in stray formerly brainwashed snipers?” Bucky jokes.

“He wasn’t using me to replace you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Bucky shrugs.

“Listen, when I was under Loki’s control, I did a lot of bad stuff. I killed SHIELD agents, attacked basically all my friends. It took time for people to trust me, but the ones that really care about me, it didn’t take long. They knew it wasn’t my fault. And I still have bad days, where I think about everything Loki said to me, and for a second- The point is, none of this is your fault. And on top of that, you had every right to give up, and you didn’t. You didn’t have to start the superhero work, but you did. Because you’re a good guy. You’re stronger than your weakest moments.”

Bucky stares at me a second. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem. If you ever feel like everyone’s up against you, come find me. I can guarantee I never will be.”

“Because I’m your knight in shining armor?” He has a small smile on his face, and an eyebrow raised.

Holy fuck he’s beautiful.

I chuckle, trying to hide my blush. “Yep. Who else is gonna save this damsel in distress?”

“What a burden.” Bucky sighs, still smiling.

I smile back, and we keep talking, just about stupid silly stuff, while we finish the whole bag of chocolate.

\--------

All I want is a cup of coffee, because my biological clock woke me up at asscrack o’clock in the morning, but of course I find Bucky, leaning over the counter, drinking from my purple mug.

“That’s my mug.” I say, stopping to lean against the counter too, facing him.

“Oh? Is it?”

“It has my logo on it. You can see my logo on it.”   
“It’s self-centered to drink from your own merchandise.” He takes another deliberate sip.

“You’re doing this on purpose, Barnes.”   
“Am I?”   
“Yes, because you know it’s mine and you’re still drinking from it.”   
Bucky flashes a cocky grin at me, and I nearly swoon.

“What can I say, you have good taste in mugs.” He smiles.

We’ve been like this for weeks, kind of sort of flirting, cuddling during movie nights with the team and wrestling during training sessions.

It’s been however many years since I first met Bucky, and only a few months since I admitted to myself I’m head over heels in love with him.

I take a deep breath, thinking about how he kissed my cheek before heading to bed last night.

“Hey, is it just me, or is there something here? Like, between us. Please tell me if I’m wrong, I’ll drop it forever, but I just kind of got vibes from you that maybe…” I trail off awkwardly.

“I mean. If you’re asking if I have romantic feelings for you, I do.”   
“Would you want to go on a date? Explore those feelings?” I ask hopefully.

“I’d love to.” He grins, sipping from my mug. “How about I take you to the best deli in all of New York for lunch, dollface?”

I blush. “Yes. Permission to steal some of your coffee?”

“Yes.”

I lean forward just a bit more, and our lips meet, the taste of his vanilla latte on my tongue.

I melt towards him as we kiss, staring at those beautiful deep green eyes.

“Been waiting to do that forever.” Bucky says when we finally pull away for breath.

“Me too.”

And our lips meet again.

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know what you thought with a kudos or comment? i really appreciate feedback, and i might even write some extra oneshots if people like this!


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